Summer, she's had her time allot
a drubbing taken in the rain
a tinkling in the chimney-pot
drumming on the windowpane.
Summer, she's all but faded and gone
signing off with her billowy frocks
like some little angry Eva Perón,
while Juan was put into the stocks.
Summer, she's
in need of a substantial dowry
for in this regal England
her treasury is quite empty.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem